This Too Shall Pass
by ginchy-amanda
Summary: 'A Day in the Life', looking at how Shelagh manages her family and work after going back to work at Nonnatus House.


**Notes:** I wrote this in answer to Patrick and Shelagh's 'blink and you'll miss it' talk of managing after she goes back to work at Nonnatus House in episode 7x7. I just wondered how they would manage with the kids, the practice, each other, and Nonnatus. I have one child and reliable childcare, but I am exhausted by day's end – how do the Turners do it? Thanks to my-little-yellowbird and fourteen-teacups for looking this over for me – you both gave me a lot to think about (and much encouragement)! I decided on the title as often, especially when my daughter was young, if I mentioned a parenting moment to any friend they would say to me, 'this too shall pass'. I think it was meant to be comforting, but it's not a lot to hold onto when you're in the midst! (The working title for this fic was Shealgh and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day – though I don't think it turned out to be quite as awful as all that!).

This Too Shall Pass

 _Morning:_

Shelagh blearily opened her eyes to the sound of Teddy's cough. She shifted in the bed to see Patrick sitting against a mound of pillows, Teddy propped against his shoulder.

"Patrick," she whispered, silencing the alarm that was set to go off in five minutes' time. "Patrick."

"Hm?" He blinked his eyes and yawned. "Little soldier had a cough when I came home around half two. Congestion. I tried an incline in the cot but he could breathe more easily when I held him. And I didn't want him to wake Angela."

"Why didn't you wake me? I would have taken him." Shelagh reached for the baby as he turned his face and snuffled into Patrick's neck.

"I knew you needed sleep. These late nights on call are wearing us down." Patrick groaned, stretching into the bed.

Shelagh tutted and stood with the baby. She grabbed a tissue and wiped at his nose. "Let's let Daddy sleep for a little, and go downstairs." She shifted Teddy to shug into her dressing gown. "Patrick, you can sleep for at least half-an-hour. I'll call around for a temporary receptionist. I'm not on-call until this evening. Today is the meeting with the medical officer concerning stillbirth rates. At least we went over the files last night. They're on the table." Shelagh sighed as Teddy coughed and began to whine. "I hope Angela didn't bring this sickness home. I'll check her."

"He probably got it at the Nursery," Patrick mumbled from underneath a mound of blankets. "Around all those children."

Shelagh frowned. "You're probably right." She closed the bedroom door. "Let's go and change your nappy," she said to Teddy, who looked at her with watery, reddened eyes. "My poor little love," she soothed, holding him close. "We'll change you and then work on some breakfast and some steam for your nose."

She changed him quickly and put him into a clean pair of pajamas. Angela was still sleeping and there was no sign of movement from Timothy's room. Shelagh slipped down the stairs and into the kitchen, trying to organize a plan for the day in her mind. She offered Teddy an arrowroot biscuit, but he would not sit in his highchair, clinging to her and burying his face in her neck. She patted his back and took the biscuit back, offering him a cup of water, instead. He drank it but pulled an affronted face, looking so much like Patrick in the moment that Shelagh had to smile, even as she tried to look through the phone directory and make calls, one-handed. After several calls, Miss Plimpton agreed to work the day's Surgery hours, and Shelagh made a mental note to remind Patrick to work with her, even if her habits and demeanor were not the easiest to warm to. Shelagh closed her eyes briefly, remembering the files she had reorganized after the last time Miss Plimpton had walked out, and hoped that this time would be better. At any rate, they had no other options, as her directory of potential substitutes had been exhausted. She placed a final, quick call to the Nursery to inform them of Teddy's illness and of his and Angela's absence for the day.

She carried Teddy back into the kitchen, setting out jam and juice while preparing toast. The table was covered with files from the Maternity Home, and Shelagh moved them to the coffee table, trying to contain some of the mess while placating Teddy and not burning the toast. Teddy handed her the water cup, and she gave him back the biscuit. He kept it in his fist, but didn't eat it, snuffling and coughing into her ear. "My wee lovely boy," she said, kissing his forehead to check his temperature. "No fever," she declared, kissing the top of his head. "Just congestion, like Daddy diagnosed. Once he and Timmy leave Mummy will run you a bath, and put salve on your chest." She tried the high-chair again and he reluctantly agreed to it, pushing soggy bits of his biscuit into the tray. Timothy's alarm rang and she called up the stairs for him to wake Angela and bring her down with him to breakfast.

Shelagh busied herself with clearing the counters and cleaning a few dishes, playing catch-up on the housework. Angela shuffled in, followed by Timothy, as the water drained from the sink. Timothy sat down next to his brother, but leaned away as Teddy coughed. "When did his cough start?"

"Your father said he heard him when he came in early this morning." Shelagh looked at Angela, who seemed bright-eyed and congestion free. "You're staying home with Mummy and Teddy today."

"But I want to go to Nursery." Angela pushed her toast away. "They have Ribena."

Shelagh laughed and pushed the toast back. She nodded to the orange juice. "You'll have Ribena tomorrow. Eat."

Timothy was on his second slice of toast. He watched as Teddy wiped at his eyes. "He must have caught a cold at Nursery, Mum," he said, wiping the jam from the corner of his lips.

"Or one of you brought it home for him to share." Shelagh turned away and pursed her lips, listening for Patrick. She heard the bath tap start to run, and turned back to the children. "Angela, if you're finished you may go play. I'm going to give your brother a bath when Daddy and Tim leave. Timothy, do you want more toast?"

He swiped up the last of the jam on his plate and stuffed the toast into his mouth, shaking his head no. Shelagh held her peace and accepted his plate. "Sorry, Mum," he said, after swallowing his bite. "But I'm almost late." He jumped up and started buckling his case.

"Just remember that there will be a thirty minute gap between my leaving and your father coming home. I'm sorry to ask you to watch your siblings again, but this afternoon I need you to come home straight away." She patted Timothy's shoulder on the way to the sink.

"I'll remember. You and Dad both reminded me last night."

Shelagh decided to let the mutter go as Timothy exited, calling a goodbye to Angela. Angela didn't answer and Shelagh turned, closing the tap to listen for her. Teddy whined in his seat and she heard Patrick closing the bedroom door, but Angela was silent. Walking further into the sitting room she saw Angela at the coffee table, head bent in concentration as she colored. On one of the medical files.

"Angela Julienne!" Shelagh ran into the room and snatched the medical file turned canvas. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Making your folders all pretty, Mummy." Angela looked down at her hands. "Daddy says my drawings are beautiful."

Shelagh mentally counted to ten, eyeing the swirls and lines that now covered the front of the file. She flipped it open and her stomach eased just slightly as the interior contents seemed untouched by the artist's hands.

"What's all this?"

Shelagh turned to Patrick, standing in the doorway, ready for the office in his crisp new suit and tie. For a moment she stared at him, longing to take a hot bath and to don her uniform, or even one of her silk dresses, so that she could leave the house with him. She set her mouth and handed him the folder.

"Angela," he said, voice stern. "We've talked about this before, young lady. You are only to draw on your special paper and coloring tablets."

Angela teared up. "But Daddy, they're pretty now."

"There's a time and a place for pretty, but Daddy and Mummy's files do not need to be pretty. They are not yours to draw on." Patrick picked up the crayons that littered the table. "No crayons for the rest of the day, I'm afraid."

Shelagh took the box of crayons from Patrick, chiding herself for leaving the files so easily accessible. She wondered how she would keep Angela busy in the afternoon, while Patrick was safely ensconced at the Maternity Home, and wouldn't be subject to a sick baby and a grumpy child.

Angela set her mouth into a mutinous line. "I'll draw with one of Daddy's pens."

Teddy began to grizzle and bang on his chair tray. Shelagh sighed. "Can you - " she gestured to Angela.

"I'll take care of it," Patrick said, sitting on the couch and drawing Angela toward him.

Shelagh tuned them out as she placed the box of crayons on the top of the refrigerator and pulled Teddy from his seat. He clutched at her and cried, as Angela sobbed from the sitting room. After a moment Patrick led Angela into the room. Her eyes seemed less teary, and she sat in her chair at the table. Patrick placed a hand on Shelagh's arm. "I'm sorry, I really am, but I must leave now or risk being even later than normal. Is there anything else before I go?"

"Duty calls," she said faintly, smiling slightly as he kissed her forehead and brushed his hand against the back of Teddy's head. "We're fine here. I'll call if there are any changes."

"I'll do my best to be back before you leave. But did you remind Timothy-"

"Yes," Shelagh said, steering him toward the door. "And Patrick," she said, as he picked up his case, juggling it with the files he also held, "please give Miss Plimpton a chance."

He made a face. "Do you think she'll return the favor?"

Shelagh set her eyebrows toward the door. "Go, before you're late."

He gave her a half-smile and left as she stood at the door with Teddy crying on her hip and Angela hiccuping from the table. She chanced a glance at the clock. A quarter after seven. It had already been a very long morning.

 _Afternoon:_

Angela kicked her foot against the wall. "Angela," Shelagh said, adjusting Teddy as pins and needles attacked her arm. "We do not kick the wall."

Rolling over on her stomach, Angela looked up and smiled. "Will you play with me, Mummy?"

"Dearest, Mummy is holding Teddy. Remember, he's sick and needs a little extra attention today."

"He always needs attention." Rolling around in front of the sliding doors, Angela groused to herself. "Can I have my crayons back?"

"Daddy said no crayons for the rest of the day." Shelagh glanced toward the kitchen, picturing the box of crayons and the blissful moments of silence they might afford her. Teddy shifted, wiping his nose into her neck. Slimy mucus smeared over her skin, and she grimaced before taking a handkerchief to wipe at it. "At least the mucus is breaking up," she said, trying to affect a cheerful tone.

"What's mucus?" Angela tapped her bare feet on the glass doors. "Look at my toe prints, Mummy!"

"Take your feet off the glass, Angela. I'm sorry that you're bored but kicking the wall and toe prints on glass are not something we do in this house." She wiped at Teddy's nose again. "Mucus is a substance created by the body. Right now Teddy has too much mucus in his nose." Shelagh leaned forward to pick up the mucus syringe.

Angela looked on in fascination. "Are you going to blow in his nose with that? Can I do it?"

Shelagh laughed. "Not yet, little nurse." She used the syringe on the sleeping baby, careful as he began to awaken and wrinkle his nose. "It'll help him to breathe much easier." Expelling the extractor's contents into a tissue, she looked at the clock. "Tim should be home soon and then Mummy will be off to Nonnatus House."

"I want to go and see Sister Julienne." Angela rolled under the coffee table. "I'll be good."

"Mummy's on-call tonight, I'm afraid. You'll stay home with Daddy and your brothers." Teddy sat up and swiped at his nose with his hand. "Hello." The baby smiled and pointed to Angela, babbling. Shelagh smiled in relief. "Much better. Maybe you'll sleep tonight so that Mummy and Daddy can, too."

"When Daddy comes home can I have my crayons back?" Angela pulled a sheaf of papers from under the table and spread them out across the floor.

Shelagh hid a sigh. "Come upstairs with me. Teddy needs a nappy change and you can play in your room while I change into my uniform. Tim will be home at any moment."

Angela jumped up to follow. "Timmy has colored pencils!"

After changing Teddy and into her uniform Shelagh walked back down the stairs, trailing after Angela, who stopped on each step to sing a few letters of the alphabet. When she got to the second rung she finished her letters and took a leap off the step, landing on the floor on her knees. "Oh, Angela!" Shelagh placed Teddy into the playpen and picked Angela up while she cried and pointed to her right knee. Teddy took the opportunity to join in with Angela's tears and reached pitifully toward her from the pen. Shelagh took Angela into the kitchen and set her on the counter, examining her leg. The skin wasn't broken, but was abraded and red. Running a cloth under the tap she placed it against the wound and kissed her daughter's forehead. Teddy began to cry louder, sneezing wetly in between sobs. Shelagh looked down at her watch. Timothy was running late and if she didn't leave soon, she would be late, too.

She pushed down a frisson of irritation, quickly doctoring Angela's injury with a plaster. She suctioned Teddy's nose again, soothing his cries with distracted pats on the back as she glanced out of the window, looking for Timothy. Annoyance grew rapidly as she glanced between the window and the clock.

"When will Timmy be home?" Angela's tears had dried, and she now sat on the sofa, looking eagerly at the door.

"He should have been home ten minutes ago." Shelagh placed Teddy onto the floor next to Angela. He held onto the sofa cushions and walked a few steps, exploring the gold fabric.

Shelagh picked up the phone to ring Nonnatus House, but the front door opened and Timothy ran in.

"You're in trouble," Angela informed him, kicking her feet against the sofa. "Isn't he, Teddy?"

Tim rolled his eyes at his sister before rounding toward Shelagh. "Mum, I'm terribly sorry. There was-"

Shelagh replaced the receiver in the cradle. "I can't hear it right now, Timothy. I'll speak to your father tonight. For now, I have to go to my shift. Angela is not allowed any crayons for the duration of the evening. Your father should be home shortly."

Angela grumbled over the crayons as Teddy sat down hard on his bottom, his lower lip jutting out in a whine. Timothy dropped his briefcase onto the coffee table. "It's not fair that I have to watch them all of the time."

Shelagh stopped buttoning her coat to turn to her son. "Tim-"

The front door burst open and Patrick came in. "Tim! I'm back early. I told you it could be done!"

Teddy fell back into the carpet and started to cry. Angela jumped up to hop around her father, begging for the return of her crayons. Timothy took the opportunity to stalk off toward his bedroom. Shelagh smiled wryly at her husband. "They're all yours," she said, as she took her bag and left for Nonnatus House.

 _Evening:_

Shelagh unlocked the door at half-one in the morning. The house was quiet, long tucked in for the evening. A half-finished puzzle was on the table, and taking note of the crayons still on top of the refrigerator Shelagh thought that perhaps the puzzle had been a bid to keep Angela busy. Checking the doors and turning out the light, Shelagh headed up the stairs to wash and ready herself for bed. She was exhausted and her head pounded with pain just behind her eyes. She swallowed some medication to ward away the headache, and ran some water in the sink to wash. The warm water felt decadent after cycling through the cold air and she spent some time washing her hands, arms, and face. She studied herself in the mirror as she patted her face with a towel. There were dark circles under her eyes that she dabbed with cold cream, though she knew more sleep would be the better, and more potent, remedy for the circles and her headache.

Angela was splayed out over the bed as Shelagh checked on her. Tucking the blanket around her, she kissed her lightly on the head and backed out of the room. Timothy's door was closed, and Shelagh wished that she could go in and kiss him on the head, too, like she had when she had first become his Mum. Her gaze lingered on the door for a moment before she entered her bedroom, stepping lightly to Teddy's cot. He was asleep on the incline, arms spread out and his breath even, if still somewhat congested. Shelagh watched him for a moment, reaching in to run a finger over the soft skin of his hand, smiling as the little fingers twitched. Moving away she readied herself for bed, climbing in as softly as possible. Yet once she settled under the blankets she saw a smile cross Patrick's face, before he opened his eyes.

"Shelagh," he breathed, reaching a hand to brush against her cheek. "How was the shift?"

"We should sleep now," she whispered, belying her words by leaning into his touch. "The shift was fine. My only call ended up being a case of Braxton Hicks. How were things here? I left you with your hands full."

He rubbed his thumb over her cheekbone. "I will admit to it having been a long evening. Angela tried everything to get those crayons back. Perhaps I was a bit hasty in taking them away for the entire day."

Shelagh hid a smile and turned to kiss his palm. He was a good father, but there were often things he just did not, or could not, see. "And Teddy?"

"He ate a few bites of his dinner before smashing the rest into his hair. A few coughs and sneezes-he's already on the mend." Patrick turned onto his back, looking toward the ceiling. "I only hope Angela isn't the next to start sneezing."

Shelagh cuddled into his side, running her fingers across his chest. "So do I." She frowned. While sitting by the phone at Nonnatus House she had felt so very guilty. It often seemed that she wished to be at work when she was home with her children, and yet while sitting alone by the phone waiting for a case she could only wish to be at home with them. "I hate leaving him when he's so sick and still so little," she said, leaning up slightly to glance at the cot.

"I know you do." Patrick smoothed her hair and rubbed her back. "He's fine, though. Healthy and thriving. A cold like this is only strengthening his immune system."

"What about Timothy?" Shelagh closed her eyes, imagining Tim's angry face. "Patrick, we have to figure this childcare issue out. Timothy cannot be responsible for the little ones so often."

"He was a ray of sunshine, Shelagh. Kind, helpful, engaging…"

Shelagh giggled. "Did he stay in his room all evening, then?"

Patrick laughed with her. "Angela coaxed him out with her puzzle. After I put her and Teddy to bed he and I talked. He felt that you had jumped to the wrong conclusion when he was late."

Shelagh stiffened. "Why was he late?"

"He dawdled too long with his friends, but it wasn't his intention to be late." Patrick pressed a kiss into her hair. "I would have assumed the worst and yelled at him. You handled it much better than I would have."

"Determining the child care will make all of us that much happier. Even Tim." Shelagh nuzzled into Patrick's warmth. "Sister Julienne told me tonight that Nurse Franklin should be back on the rota by the beginning of the month. There is also talk of another medical orderly being added to the staff. My time at Nonnatus House may soon be at an end."

"How do you feel about that?" Patrick hid a yawn by rubbing his face against her.

"It's time," she said, releasing a sigh as some of the tension behind her eyes lessened. "I enjoy the work, but I'd rather focus on the practice and on our family."

"I'd rather you be at the Maternity Home, too. Miss Plimpton would rather you were there as well."

"Oh, Patrick," Shelagh giggled again. "Please tell me you were nice to the poor woman."

"I'm always nice. She just doesn't care for me or for your filing system." Patrick took her hand in his and held it to his heart. "We'll both be glad when you can return to regular shifts."

Shelagh squeezed his hand, thankful to have a partner in the midst of the chaos. "We'll manage until that time."

"We always do," Patrick murmured around another yawn, releasing her hand to hold her in his arms.

He fell silent and his arm began to feel heavy against her as he started to doze. Shelagh watched the rise and fall of his chest and considered how much effort went into managing their days. She thought of her exhaustion, and Patrick's, of Timothy's anger and Angela's boredom, of Teddy's cold, the messy house and never-ending work. The work would always be a constant, though perhaps more management of it would bring more peace at home. With a sigh she thought of her three sleeping children and their dozing father and the answer came to her suddenly that yes, they were managing; sometimes all one could do was manage to make it through.

With a smile Shelagh closed her eyes on her day...

...only to have them fly open a moment later when Patrick sat up in the bed and sneezed.


End file.
